Black Cat: Bad Night

[Damselbinder]

Elements in this story include:
Bondage
Chloroforming
Net Trap
Unmasking
Forced Kissing
Fondling


It would not be true to say that Felicia was silent as she entered the museum. But it was not true in a way that did not really matter much. There were certain human beings in the world - be they mutant, inhuman, or deviant - who would have been able to hear Felicia enter, who would have heard the custom-built pads on the soles of her feet. But even the most vigilant security guard would not have heard her - and the single private security man in the Cortland Avenue penthouse was not the most vigilant. He was only half watching the row of screens in front of him, and when they faded out, one by one, perfectly obscuring Felicia's entrance, and then winking back online the moment she'd passed the camera in question.

And so she passed unnoticed. Even if there had been some enemy awaiting her arrival with a fiendish trap, they would have struggled to spring it. Partly through instinct, and partly through practice, she moved entirely in the shadows, almost completely invisible. Through the halls of the opulent mansion she trod carefully, silent as a hunting owl. If, however, one had been able to track her movements, one would have seen her come to a full stop. Something had made her wary.
"Really? A pressure plate?"

Again, few would have noticed it. Even Felicia hadn't expected it. But hidden beneath the aggressively tasteful pine floorboards was a very slightly raised section. Had Felicia stepped on it, even her soft footfalls would have triggered an alarm. She smiled to herself: she was almost impressed that they'd been able to surprise her. But it would have been insulting to suggest that she'd actually been challenged.

A single jump. Felicia hadn't even bent her knees: such was the coiled, feline gymnasticism of her body that she could jump 150% of her height from a standing start. So graceful, so perfect, was this motion, that as Felicia sailed through the air she permitted herself the luxury of a somersault. She entered the empty bedroom of the home into which she'd intruded, landing right in a spot illuminated by moonlight from an open window. In doing so, she made one detest darkness - detest anything that might obscure one's view of the Black Cat.

She had an unbelievable body, tight and gorgeous, clad in a one-piece black catsuit so tight that it might have been a second skin. Even on a very good-looking woman such a costume might have looked unflattering, but on Felicia it only heightened her extraordinary beauty. Her body's shape was an absolutely flawless version of what it was: every voluptuous curve eliding gracefully into another, every contour feminine, thrilling, and astonishingly sexy. Padded boots with white, fur adornments seemed to merge with her catsuit at the ankle, leading the eye up a pair of long, toned legs. The slender sleekness of her calves tapered out into a more rounded, feminine softness in her thighs. If the eye wasn't sated enough by this, her legs led up to a pair of curvy, feminine hips, a tantalising ripple in the river of her sinuous, slinky figure.

But the skintight suit Felicia wore highlighted more than just her legs and her hips. A delectably prominent posterior capped off the feast for the eyes that was Black Cat's lower body, leading up to a trim, narrow waist, and a smooth, perfectly flat midriff. Her suit, had Felicia wished it, would have covered her completely up to her neck - but Felicia willed otherwise. Her catsuit was unzipped down to the middle of her torso, giving a more-than-generous view of her buxom, fulsome breasts, a loud and clear declaration of Felicia's femininity and raw, desirability. She was beautiful, and she knew it, and she damn well liked showing it off.

Her catsuit was a little less bare on her upper body. Bordering her collar and the parted halves of the front of the suit was a white fur, the same as that on the back of her boots. Similarly, her forearms were adorned with a little fur as well. As well as fitting in with her 'cat' theme, the fur actually helped to blunt attacks from edged weapons...though it had to be confessed that form, rather than function, had been Felicia's principal concern. The fur on her chest also had the effect of leading the eye from Felicia's bosom to her face, where the eye might well have wished to linger. Her lips were a pinkish-red, soft and moist. Her cheeks, her jaw, were elegantly shaped, but not hard - her features had a hint of softness in them, even sweetness. Her eyes were large, deep blue, framed by a simple, black domino mask and narrowed in observant cunning. Her hair was long, thick, and pure white, the same as the fur adornments of her costume. She was, in a word, stunning.

It was an irony that Black Cat, who made such efforts not to be seen, had made herself so tantalising to look at. Certainly, she was a much more natural resting place for the eye than the object she sought. To the untrained eye, it was less than nothing: a cheap piece of jewellery - a ring with a low quality diamond, silver, and not even particularly nice silver. Any other ring like it would have gone for perhaps 150 dollars on the open market. So why had the Black Cat turned her crystal-blue eyes so voraciously onto this irrelevant frippery? She - a thief of international repute - could have been helping herself to the Crown Jewels if she'd really put her mind to it.

Black Cat wasn't giving anything away. She approached this task as she would any other robbery: with skill, and haste. In two silky steps, her sumptuous body moving with a liquid ease and grace, she covered the distance between herself and her target: a glass case with the ring inside. Like a wizard casting a spell, her fingers danced over the container's lock, and it seemed to pop open as though it felt like doing her a favour. Then, with only the smallest of flourishes, Black Cat slipped her hand inside, and purloined the ring in an instant, hiding it in a well-concealed pocket.

At this moment, the theft was complete. Felicia could easily have leapt out the open window, used her claws to descend safely, and be on her way. But she didn't. She waited.
"Wonder what the Web-Head would think of me," Felicia mused, a glint of a smile on her face, "going back to my old ways..." Meeting Peter Parker, becoming...entangled with him, had put Felicia on rather a different track than she'd been on before. She'd been following in her father's footsteps, becoming an accomplished jewel-thief. Robbing from the rich and...well not exactly giving to the poor, but hey - she was poor compared to her marks, right?

But all that she'd given up. She was like her beau - a superhero now. She wasn't the most powerful in the world, but then neither was Spider-Man, and he'd made a hell of a name for himself. She'd dedicated herself to fighting crime - so why was she now committing it? And why, indeed, was she waiting right at the scene of the crime, practically offering herself up to arrest instead of escaping? She'd be caught red-handed! What on earth was she thinking?

Black Cat didn't seem perturbed. She was smiling, in fact, her moist, red lips parted with a mischievous grin. Foolhardiness seemed to move straight on to madness, for Black Cat took out a cellphone...and dialled 911.
"Please help!" she gasped, when the operator answered. "I think there's a robbery in progress! Where? Oh...Cortland Avenue. The big penthouse...yeah - oh my god, I think I heard gunfire!"

She closed her phone, her smile a little wider. She needed the police to arrive. Of course, she had no idea exactly when they'd arrive...but she had a funny feeling that it'd be right when she wanted. And so, she chose to wait. She sat down in a plush chair, crossed her long, tightly covered legs, and dialled another number.
"Yello? Peter, uh, Parker here."
Felicia bit her bottom lip as soon as she heard his voice. She couldn't help herself. "Hey, sexy. Guess who."
"Look, Mr Grimm, I'm flattered - maybe even a little curious - but I just don't think it can work between us."
Felicia laughed out loud, making no apparent attempt to conceal her presence. "You're a doofus," she said, her voice filled with undisguised affection.
"Uh, maybe," Peter replied. Felicia could tell he was blushing.
"I take it Octavius didn't smush you, then," Felicia said. She knew Peter had intended to confront his old nemesis - she was the one who'd tipped him off to the robbery Otto had been planning.
"Only a little. I stopped the heist easy enough, but I had to chase him all the way back to his new Octo-Lair - in Wyoming."
"Wyoming?"
"Well, why not Oming?"

This didn't get a laugh. "So...was Octavius' base actually in Wyoming, or did you just want to make that joke?"
"I don't know why you would possibly suggest such a thing. I'm shocked, shocked that you'd doubt me. After all these years - "
"I'm starting to sympathise with Jameson."
"Alright, alright. I didn't go to Wyoming. I had to..." His voice took on a solemn, ominous aspect. "I had to go to...New Jersey."
"Are there no depths to which Octavius won't sink?"
"I know, right? It wasn't too bad, actually. I webbed him up for the Jersey cops, took his new remote control claw thing off him, bought a hot-dog - it was a pretty good day! Plus, people in Jersey actually seem to like me. They don't get the Bugle there, I guess. Welp, that's just the cross I have to - "
"Say, Peter..." Felicia said, somehow interrupting softly.
"Uh, yeah?"
"If you a) shut up and b) swing over to my place in the next...thirty-five minutes, maybe I'll let you web me up."
"...now, Miss Hardy, that's just a scandalous proposal."
"You don't know the meaning of the word, Web-Head." She was about to go into a little more detail, when she heard something. A footstep, clumsy and heavy, on the floorboards outside the room she was in. "My ship just came in, Peter. Speak soon."
"I love you," Peter said, with an easy earnestness, just before hanging up, his words leaving a faint blush on his lover's cheeks.
Felicia felt her heart swell. As much as she teased him, she did love him back, and faintly regretted not having said so just then. But she wasn't neurotic: she knew she was good to him.

It was hard to believe that Peter would be comfortable with her evening's larceny, however. But then, the job wasn't quite done yet.
"Is someone there?" A young man's voice. It had that strained, shallow quality that the voices of lean, muscular men often had. He sounded a little nervous. "I'm armed. If someone's there, show yourself before something stupid happens."
"In here," Black Cat said, rolling a small object towards the door. At the sudden sound of her voice, there was equal chance that the security man would leap forward, or spring backwards - but luck was on Felicia's side. He sprang forward, stepping right onto the smoke bomb that Felicia had left for him. It exploded, engulfing him in a thick cloud of noxious black gas. Felicia leapt into action, ducking his panic fire and striking him in the stomach with a snap kick from one of her shapely limbs. Twice Felicia's size, the guard nevertheless fell back, wheezing. A single move had won the fight.

Now there was no time to waste. Felicia doubled back, and made for the open window. Her athletic frame covered the distance in only a few moments, but though her speed was impressive, it was not superhuman. The well-muscled guard had a strong stomach, and he recovered quickly. The smoke was clearing, and he could make out Black Cat's silhouette through the haze. He raised his gun, preparing to fire a bullet right into her back. He wouldn't miss. Not without divine intervention.

"Drop the weapon! Drop the weapon right now!"
"Wh-what?!" The guard turned his head, and found that it had not taken intervention from the divine to stop him from shooting Black Cat - merely the intervention of the police. Two uniformed officers, appearing through a door that Felicia had left strategically ajar, now loomed over him. He looked back in horror to see that the thief had made her escape in the meantime. One would have thought, though, that he'd still have been relatively pleased to see the policemen there. After all, the guard himself didn't yet know that the thief had taken anything yet, and if she had, then the police's presence was much to be desired. But he wasn't pleased, not even relatively. He watched with an ever-tightening stomach as the other moved into the gallery.

"So you think it was a woman?" the first officer said.
"What? Uh, yeah," the guard replied, never taking his eyes off the second officer. "Look, I don't think she took anything, so you guys can just go. There's no problem here, I'm telling you." He was failing to keep the desperation out of his voice.
"Hey, Frank," the second officer said, as he moved into the room that Black Cat had leapt from, and saw the items hanging from its walls. "I think maybe we need to call this in."

A perfect confluence of events had led to this outcome. If Felicia had not called the police at the exact moment she had, if they had arrived but a few moments later, if the security guard had noticed Felicia's presence any earlier, or later, if the window in the room Felicia had been in hadn't already been open, it could all have fallen apart. But things had a way of going how the Black Cat wanted them to. It was as if fate was always stacking the deck slightly in her favour - and in a real sense it was. She may not have had super-strength, a spider-sense, or the ability to stick to walls, but she had a degree of control over luck. Good luck for herself, bad luck for her enemies. In this case, her enemy was a certain Maximilian Ross, an industrialist with seedy connections to the New York underworld. Felicia had not really been there to rob him at all - but to show the police his vast collection of stolen artwork and jewellery in a manner that even the best lawyer would be unable to deflect.

Felicia watched from a nearby rooftop, rather indulging a sense of intense self-satisfaction. She had tried being a Spider-Man style crimefighter, but it just wasn't quite her wheelhouse. She was a fighter when she wanted to be, and a very good one, but not a crusader - not a warrior.
"Just because I'm good," she thought, "doesn't mean I can't be bad doing it." She toyed with the trophy she'd taken from Ross' collection - the ring. That was what had put her onto Ross to start with - a rumour that he'd acquired one of the Mandarin's original rings. Had Tony Stark's erstwhile archenemy found out about this, he'd likely not have cared, for the ones he carried now were far more powerful, but even the older rings were still dangerous on the wrong fingers.

"Black Cat: Knight of Justice," Felicia thought, laughing to herself. "Who'd have thought it?" She stood up, her long, white hair fluttering slightly in a warm breeze, the wind tickling her face and the exposed skin of her chest. Stealing for a purpose, for a cause other than her own enrichment, was a great deal more satisfying than raw avarice had been. The danger, the adrenaline rush of doing what she did was still intense, but she felt more in control of her fate now - a master of her own destiny.

So why then, when she'd heard the rushing sound, the fwipp-fwipp-fwipp as the ropes zipped towards her, didn't she react? She'd had a good two-thirds of a second before they struck - more than enough time for a master gymnast like her to get out of the way. So why didn't she? Was it because the spinning ropes sounded a little like a distant helicopter? Was it because she was feeling a little too pleased with herself? Or was it, perhaps, because she was thinking of Peter? Either way, she was caught completely off guard when the bolo whips struck.

"Wh - what the - ?!" Once it had started, it happened almost too fast for Felicia to process. Thin, strong lengths of white cord, weighted at each end struck her in the back, the weights coiling the rope around her with an almost sinister momentum. All Felicia could do was look down in sheer disbelief as the ropes spun around her, mouth agape, eyes wide in shock. Like snakes they coiled her up, but infinitely faster, spinning round and round, pinning Felicia's arms tightly against her sides, her hands pressing uselessly against her hips. In less than a second her arms had been completely restrained, ropes hemming in her wriggling shoulders, squeezing her breasts from below - completely covering her torso from her hips to her bosom. And as Felicia looked down in shock at her sudden bondage, another whip was thrown.

"No you don't!" Embarrassed as Felicia was at feeling herself tied up so quickly and so tightly, she hadn't lost her wits - this whip she heard coming, and she dodged out of the way, flipping backwards gracefully from the ledge she'd perched on. Even as her bosom pressed tight against her bonds with every breath, she ducked down and pressed herself against the masonry to cut off possible avenues of attack. "Alright, jackass. You got me. Now where the hell are you? And for that matter, who the hell are you?" An infinity of possibilities. There were dozens of windows and five or six rooftops that a skilled thrower could have snagged Felicia from - nearly ten if they were very skilled.

"At least they didn't shoot me..." Felicia thought, though that relief brought with it a worry: she could think of a fair few people who'd want to kill her sure...but someone was trying to capture her. "Ugh...man, these are tight!" Felicia hissed, trying to use the claws built into her gloves to cut her way free, but her hands were trapped, palms inward, against her hips, and she couldn't turn them around. Her powers over luck were subtle, and by no means infinite, and they had not been enough so far. "Maybe I can get a glimpse of the asshole-in-question, at least..."

She may not have got a glance of the asshole-in-question, but Black Cat did happen to see a seagull flying past out of the corner of her eye. One would have thought that it was not the right time for her to indulge in a spot of birdwatching, but Felicia followed the flight of the bird as it lazily flapped between two buildings. As her eye traced its path, she just so happened to see a hint of movement atop a nearby rooftop, and the glint of the sight of a rifle - a moment before it fired.

"Shit!" Felicia evidently had faster reactions than the gunman, for she'd already moved out of the way an instant before the trigger was pulled, a move made all the more impressive considering that her arms were still bound. Evidently her influence over luck was still aiding her. Now that she knew where she was being attacked from, she'd be able to escape even with both arms restrained. "But now he's trying to kill me...so why tie me up first? He could have shot me instead of throwing the bolo and I'd never have seen it coming. Toying with his prey, maybe...?" A shiver ran up her spine. "Kraven?"

But if she was right, then at the very least Kraven was not alone. For in dodging the gunfire, she'd had to move right into the centre of the rooftop, momentarily exposed. She'd landed a little awkwardly, struggling to balance without the use of her arms, so she wasn't quite as quick on her feet as she ought to have been, left herself vulnerable for a moment longer than she should have. Though the lapse was hardly something one could blame her for, its punishment was swift and sudden.

"Aah!" Twice ambushed, and twice tricked, Felicia felt with a flash of embarrassment as a second bolo whip snagged her from behind, this time striking her in the calves. The cord spun in both directions, entwining Felicia's limbs from her knees to her ankles in strong, tight cord. The sheer force of the ropes, the momentum that their weights preserved, was so strong that Felicia's legs snapped together with an audible slapping sound as her latex clad thighs slammed against each other. The shock of her ever more thorough bondage, and her disbelief at the strange turn of events left her momentarily stunned. She stared down at her curvy, trussed up body, uncomprehending of what was happening. "It was like a plan...like they knew I'd notice the shooter and jump out of the way at just the right moment - but how the hell could they have predicted that?!" Another, more urgent question, too: how could she get out of this?

She looked up, trying to find the shooter again, but he'd moved. He didn't have to: Felicia, now bound hand and foot, was a sitting duck. He could easily have killed her: obviously he was choosing not to. Black Cat tried again to cut herself free, but she'd been peculiarly unlucky with the positioning of her hands. If she'd been standing in any other way when she'd been ensnared, she'd have been able to escape. "Damn it!" Felicia hissed, wriggling her shapely form with a little more vigour. Too much vigour, as it turned out. Her legs were bound too tightly, the wriggling of her hemmed-in shoulders too intense. She stumbled, slipped, and fell flat on her back.

"Oooff!" she groaned, toppled by her so-far unseen assailants. Cold, hard ground met Felicia's warm, soft figure, and the reality of her bondage impressed itself upon her. It had happened so quickly, and now she was all but helpless! The twin moments of humiliation, as bolo whips had wrapped up her arms and legs, flashed intensely in her mind: she'd gone from limber thief to trussed up maiden in...seconds! She writhed on the ground, thinking that surely such a quickly deployed snare would be relatively easily unwound, but she realised that the ropes were slightly adhesive: they were designed to hold in place even without being knotted, sticking easily to her tight catsuit. "Maybe if I got the ropes wet..." Felicia hurriedly looked for some source of water, and saw a fairly unimpressive puddle a few feet to her right. "Nothing for it..."

As undignified as it was, Felicia began to roll towards the puddle, a surprisingly difficult task with her body tied so tightly. She kept a weather eye on her surroundings, wary of any other surprises her assailants might have in store for her. But it was not to be. As she struggled for freedom, the jaws of the vice closed tighter. In two pairs they came, dropping down onto the rooftop with the hard thud of strong, heavy boots. They were dressed as anonymously as possible: they could have been paramilitaries in any corner of the world. Black khakis, black flak-jackets, black goggles and masks over their mouths. Black Cat would have been surprised indeed to find that they were working with Kraven - they put her more in mind of H.Y.D.R.A.

"Evening boys," Felicia said, apparently unperturbed by her considerable disadvantage. "Don't suppose you're here to give me a hand, are you?" There was now a paramilitary between her and the puddle. She couldn't reach it.
"Great," the one closest to Felicia said. "She thinks she's witty."
"I don't get it," another - possibly female - said. "The boss said she'd be harder to catch than this. Weren't we supposed to fail at this stage?"
"Whatever," a third said. "I'm not complaining." He began to approach Felicia, standing over the buxom, trussed-up thief as she wriggled on the ground beneath him. "Heh. I'm really not complaining: what a handful you are, sweetie."
"Come closer and I'll show you I'm a lot more than a handful, babe." Felicia smiled, but her eyes narrowed threateningly.
"Well, if you insist..."

He reached down towards her, in an apparent effort to grab her by the waist, but Felicia wasn't having it. She drew back her legs, snapping them out like whipcords, her feet colliding directly with her attacker's solar plexus.
"OOOFFF!!" he groaned, stumbling backwards and struggling to stay on his feet.
"Damn it, Gregson!" The second paramilitary barked, shoving her comrade out of the way. She lifted a pistol, pointed it straight at Felicia's head. "Don't move, kittycat." To her pleasure, she found her command obeyed. "Really? It's this easy? I didn't expect you to be so obedient, Black Cat."
"You're pointing a gun at me, sweetheart," Felicia said, "how do you expect me to react?"
Felicia's attacker growled. "Phillips, get her up."
"Mm."

Phillips, the first of the paramilitaries Felicia had seen, moved carefully behind her. Gingerly, he knelt down, and took Felicia somewhat hesitantly by her shoulders.
"No tricks now, Cat," Phillips huffed. "Wouldn't want that pretty face of yours getting tarnished."
"Aww, you're so considerate," Black Cat hissed, wriggling in Phillips' strong grip, her shoulders squeezed painfully as he restrained her. For all her agility and skill, Felicia was a balletic, agile fighter, not a musclebound bruiser. Phillips was much, much stronger than her. "So, boys and girls," she said, trying not to think about the growing feeling of vulnerability swelling in her breast, "care to explain why you've spoiled my night?"
"You don't need to know," the woman with the gun said, coming a step closer. Felicia got a better look at her now: she was slightly taller than her captive, broader shouldered than all but one of her male allies, and though her voice sounded relatively youthful, she had the confident stance of a veteran. Gregson, on the other hand, seemed very much the rookie. Still recovering from the shot Black Cat had made to his stomach, he unhooked his own pistol a little clumsily, aiming it at Felicia with a shaking hand. The thief's mind ticked over: she'd had a plan in mind for escape, but broad-shouldered woman was too calm for Felicia to use her. Gregson, however, was just about jumpy and stupid enough. Now all she needed was a little more luck...

"You sure you don't - unghh! - want to tell me what's going on here?" Felicia said, still fighting against Phillips' grip. "You guys work for H.Y.D.R.A., maybe?" She watched her captors carefully, but there was no reaction. "No? Maybe you got put up to it by a muscly guy with a major hunting fetish." There was light laughter. "Wrong again, huh? Maybe -"
"Sherma, would you please shut her up?" Phillips growled.
"Gladly," the broad-shouldered woman answered. She nodded to Gregson, who raised his gun while Sherma lowered hers. As she took something from a pouch at her side, Felicia tried and failed to break from Phillips' grasp, but he wrapped a strong arm around her stomach, keeping her curvy, wriggling body secured in place. And - of course entirely by chance - his fingers just so happened to reach up to the undersides of Felicia's breasts.
"Having a good feel there, pal?" Felicia's voice was relatively calm, but she allowed plenty of venom into it. "Hope you don't have a wife waiting at home. I doubt she'd take kindly to you feeling up a sexy cat-burgllrrmmmmmmmmphhhhh!!"

Sherma hadn't bothered to let her finish. While she'd been walking, she tore from a small white roll a strip of medical tape - brought for precisely this purpose - before grabbing Felicia by the chin, and slapping the tape down over her soft, red lips.
"Mmmphhh!!" Felicia cried out, a hot sting of embarrassment shooting through her as she felt herself being gagged, the tape securely sealing her lovely mouth. She glowered at Sherma, unable to see her face, but somehow sure that she was smirking beneath her mask.
"I hate dealing with the costumed freaks," Sherma huffed. "They always have so much to say."
"Mrrghhmph! Mmrr-MMPHHH!!" Black Cat snarled, writhing and bucking in her captor's grip. But for all her struggles, for all her persistent fortitude, she could feel something had changed. Her captors had been nervous of her to start with, even though they'd found the lovely thief tied up and relatively helpless. But now she was gagged - muzzled - and suddenly she was just a curvaceous beauty in a skintight outfit, all wrapped up in rope: a captive. Their captive.

"Mmmphh..." Felicia mewed, lowering her eyes. Her shoulders seemed to pinch in a little tighter, her struggles weaker, far less sincere.
"Ha! Well isn't that cute. She's embarrassed." Sherma reached forward, roughly clutched Felicia's cheeks with one hand, squeezing them slightly. "You're hot, Black Cat, don't get me wrong - but you're really not such a big deal." Sherma's comrades all had a good chuckle at this witless remark. Felicia went quiet, now trying as much as possible to look away from Sherma. Her captor leaned in closer, squeezed Black Cat's smooth cheeks a little tighter. She smiled broadly beneath her mask. She only smiled for about a second, though, because at the end of that second, Black Cat had broken Sherma's nose with her forehead.

"AAAGGHHHH!!"
All was thrown into confusion. Phillips hadn't been paying attention, and as Sherma stumbled away in pain, he didn't know what to do with the thief he held so tightly. Their so-far-silent fourth colleague somehow got into his head the idea that Sherma had been shot, and spun wildly around looking for some hidden ally of Felicia's. Gregson, at least, realised what had happened, but his response was wildly disproportionate: he gripped his pistol tightly and fired right at Black Cat.

"AAAGGHHHH!!"
More confusion. Gregson hadn't hit Felicia - though god knew there'd have been hell to pay if he had - but Phillips instead, driving a bullet through the front and out the back of his right hand. It was the hand with which he had been cupping Felicia's breasts, with a decreasing effort to hide his lascivious intentions. The bullet, if one will forgive a grisly digression, deflected slightly in flight as it struck the bone of Phillips' palm. Thus reduced in speed, and moving at a different angle, the bullet left Phillips' hand at just the right angle - as luck would have it - to cut one of the cords binding Felicia's torso.

She didn't waste an instant. As soon as she felt her bonds slacken, she twisted her right arm, slicing through more of the rope with the claws at the end of her glove. As Phillips staggered backwards, clutching his bleeding hand, Felicia was fred from his grip, and with another slash and a vigorous wriggle, she'd freed her torso from her bonds. Gregson fired again, but by this point he had almost no chance at all. Black Cat performed a dizzying leap forwards, rolling her body between the poorly aimed bullets and slashing her legs free with a brief flourish, before landing artfully right in the centre of her captors. But she sprang out of her landing like there were coils in her thighs, closing the distance on Gregson before he could think of adjusting his aim. She slashed at his hand, and there was a flash of crimson and a pained cry as his gun fell from his hand, before Felicia struck at his ankle with her calf, and smacked a closed fist backwards into his right cheek. He was toppled, falling hard to the ground.

"Think maybe you need to go back to boot-camp, Mr Commando!" Felicia laughed. Thrilled to have the balance of power tipped in her favour, Felicia thrust her flawlessly shapely right leg backwards, driving her heel right into the stomach of Sherma, who'd been attempting to grab her from behind. The burly woman gasped, and fell back, shuddering and winded. The other two, despite being relatively heavily armed, were now genuinely afraid to engage her.

"Aww," Felicia crowed, "you guys bored already? Well, I guess no game's fun when you're losing this badly." She was tempted, sorely tempted, to finish them off and perhaps interrogate them for information, but she was already pushing her luck: literally. In order for Gregson to be in just the right place, in order for the bullet to come out at just the right angle, to put everything exactly where it needed to be, Black Cat had had to use her abilities over luck consciously. This she rarely did, preferring to let it influence things more subtly. But the feeling of being caught, of being tied up... "I didn't have a choice."

"It's a shame," Felicia called out to her foes, hopping deftly onto the edge of the rooftop, "that you guys didn't tell me who your boss is. I'd wanted to thank him for an evening's entertainment. By the way, if we meet again..." She brandished her claws. "No guarantees what might happen."
Fear turned to anger, and a hail of gunfire attended Felicia's egress - but it did not arrest it. She leapt from the rooftop she'd been on to another, and bounded - appropriately catlike - to another, and another, even leaping to a higher one, scaling the walls with her claws and her well-earned agility. In mere moments, she was out of her enemies' hands. They'd lost.

Black Cat's escape seemed complete. She bounded from roof to roof, putting more and more distance between herself and her would-be captors, exulting in the thrill of escape, in her own skill and strength - even her beauty. The creeping fear and embarrassment of being caught, bound, had been washed away. She stopped, turned back to made sure she wasn't being pursued. No - she was quite alone.

Still, it was concerning. Felicia, as she leapt onto yet another rooftop, thought again about who could be after her. She'd consult with Peter about it, put out feelers as to who might wish her harm, and how harm might be brought to them first. But after that night, bad as it had been for a while there, she felt confident that she could tackle the problems ahead, that she'd -

"Aaahhh!"

The yelp was quite understandable. A full on scream would have been understandable, considering that the floor had just collapsed from under her. Suddenly falling, she reached out, trying to find something to grab onto, but the masonry was so weak that everything she touched crumbled. For a moment, her foot managed to catch something more stable, but that too fell before she could right herself. Felicia was tumbling in darkness, in absolute confusion.
"D-did they do this?! Did they set charges here for the roof to collapse? But - how could they know where I'd run to? It's impossible - it's completely impossible!"

But the impossibility didn't seem to have prevented it from happening. A coincidence seemed even less likely, but how could it have been intentional? No - none of that mattered: all that mattered was that Felicia was still falling! She'd expected to hit the next floor - but there was no next floor: this building had been a small textiles factory once, and she was tumbling all the way down to its bottom. If she hit the ground with no brace, she'd break her back at best.

A sudden pang of fear. "I could die. I could die right here, and never see him again." The thought of such an ignominious end was unconscionable. Almost praying, she tried to pull the odds in her favour, hoping that at the very least she could get lucky and be merely horrifically injured, rather than crippled, even if she couldn't pull a miracle into her grasp. But she didn't need to: the miracle had been prepared in advance.

Felicia hit something in the air. Something stretchy, and strong, for it not only broke her fall, but absorbed the impact safely enough that Felicia was almost completely unhurt: it was a safety net - it had been laid out right where Felicia had fallen. Someone had known - must have known that this would happen, and had ensured she'd survive. But Felicia was not about to start praising her luck yet. As she fell into the net, certain cords snapped, at first making Felicia fear that it wouldn't properly break after all, but no: it held. It's just that, as certain strategically weakened cords snapped, the safety net turned out not to be a safety net at all - but a hunting net.

"What?!" Even before she'd stopped descending completely, Felicia felt herself springing back up, as the corners of the netting closed around her, ensnaring her. One of her feet was caught slightly in the net's mesh, so it was pulled up along with that end of the snare, pulling Felicia's legs up, upending the slinky thief. She tried to right herself, but the net closed so tightly that she almost no room to maneuver. It was almost as if she were standing on her head, with the back of her head and her neck pressing up against the bottom of the net. She was forced to pull her knees up against her chest, her arms hemmed in with very little freedom of movement. Balled up and suspended who-knew-how-high in mid-air, Felicia was once again a captive.

"God damn it!!" Black Cat shouted, her voice ringing in the dark, empty hall. She gritted her teeth, furious at being caught again, embarrassed by the way she'd been balled up, and beginning to get the queer sensation that someone was messing with her. She'd heard of a certain mutant, some idiot called 'Deadpool', who was known for pulling bizarre, extravagant stunts, and wondered if she was the victim of some deadly, elaborate prank. Some found him funny; Felicia definitely didn't - but then she didn't know he had anything to do with it either.

Something felt wrong, and not just because she was hanging upside-down in a net. She felt...she felt like she was being manipulated.
"It's like...like I can feel something on the edge of my senses...what the hell is going on tonight?" She tried to turn her efforts away from ominous pontificating, and onto trying to cut herself free. She slashed at the net with her claws, but they didn't cut through. "What's this damn net made of?" Her claws weren't made of adamantium or anything, but they were very sharp. They'd have cut through normal rope like butter. Then again, having her arms bunched up close to her body by the net made it difficult to get a good swing.

It was just as she was thinking that her situation, while embarrassing, did not seem immediately urgent that she found herself illuminated. A click, a low, groaning hum, and a few anemic bulbs flickered on, giving Felicia a better sense of where she was. There were a few conveyor belts, bits of heavy machinery lying around, cutting the factory floor into a few sections. Felicia also saw that she wasn't that high up - if she righted herself, she could land safely. But the light did not bring Felicia much comfort. It was almost certainly the omen of an enemy.

Had the building not been so empty, and so quiet, she probably wouldn't have heard anything, for the footsteps she heard were soft, light, almost completely silent. In fact, Felicia had a strange feeling that this person, whoever they were, could easily have concealed the sound of their approach if they'd wanted to. But they didn't. They walked out, openly, into the light, until they were as close to Felicia horizontally as they were vertically. The newcomer was quite small: slim, slinky and compact. But there was strength there - real strength, and they looked up at Felicia, trapped in a net, with the eyes of a predator. Eyes that saw more than just a target. Eyes that saw a woman.

"Hey!" Black Cat called out, trying to twist herself to get a good look at the newcomer. All she could see in her brief glances in the dim light was that whoever it was was dressed mostly in black. "Any chance you're just a good samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time?"
There was no reply.
"Well, it was worth a shot." Black Cat managed to get a better look now. The newcomer was a woman, quite slim and short. She had long, black hair, what looked like a red handkerchief over her mouth, and an expanse of white on her torso. It looked, Black Cat realised, like a superhero's costume, though she didn't recognise it. "So are you just another lackey," Felicia shouted, trying again to slice herself free, "or are you the one who actually arranged my evening's entertainment?"
"You're asking if I'm the boss. To you, Cat? Yeah, I'm the boss." Her voice wasn't very loud, or impressively deep or sonorous, or anything. But there was a quality in her cadence, a sort of vicious, condescending confidence that irritated Felicia sincerely.

"Do you mind telling me why?" Felicia asked. She was trying to drag the conversation out, as her attempts at cutting through her net were beginning to meet with success. She was almost through.
The newcomer would answer, but not before giving Felicia a hell of a fright, for she leapt up, in a single bound, right from the factory floor to the net in which Felicia was suspended, a jump of at least twenty feet. Black Cat recoiled in surprise as her evidently superhuman enemy sprang onto her, but in the tight net, the balled-up thief had nowhere really to recoil to. She began squirming with a bit more vigour, but it didn't accomplish much.

"I don't need to tell you anything," she said. "All you are is a cog in a machine that you have no way of understanding." Dark, attractive eyes narrowed, and slender limbs wrapped around the net that Felicia was held in. This woman, whoever she was, was quite lovely: Asian, much slimmer and more petite than Felicia, but slinky, and shapely in her own way. It was not her looks that Felicia was paying attention to, though. It was the fact that she wasn't actually holding the net at all, merely pressing the flat of her hand onto it, which apparently was enough to keep her in place. That - and the conspicuous web-pattern on her chest.

"She has powers - powers just like Peter's." Felicia knew of a 'Spider-Woman', but this wasn't her. She didn't appear to be wearing webshooters, but her powers were unmistakably similar to Spider-Man's. What was happening? Who was this woman?
"I see you've noticed what I can do," the woman said. "I suppose here you'd understand best if I said I'm the same as...oh, what's he called...oh yes, Spider-Man." She snorted derisively: evidently she didn't think too much of her counterpart. "So don't wriggle around too much, Cat. I'm more than strong enough to hurt you very badly without trying too hard."

She pulled something out of a pouch at her side, then swung herself deftly underneath Felicia, holding herself in place with her thighs. Not only did this keep her in place, but her legs squeezed against Felicia's body, pinning the trapped thief, restraining her arms with surprising effectiveness.
"Ugh!" Felicia groaned, squirming between her captor's thighs, but nowhere near strong enough to break free.
"Hmm..." Felicia's captor laughed lightly. "I like feeling you struggle against me, Black Cat. It's a nice reminder of how strong I am."
"Oh, I'm - ugh - so pleased I could gratify you!" As Black Cat twisted her head from side to side to try to see what her captor was doing, she saw a glint in her right hand. "A syringe!"

"As nice as this feels, Cat," the woman said, squeezing her thighs a little tighter around her victim, "I advise you to keep still." She gave Felicia a pretty clear idea of where she wanted to stick the needle, too - for she reached upwards with her free hand, and grabbed Felicia's shapely, prominent rear.
"Hey!" Felicia barked. "Get your hands off me!"
"Let me explain what's going to happen," Felicia's assailant said, beginning to squeeze her victim's rump with slim, skilled fingers. "I'm going to inject you with this sedative. You're going to pass out. I'm going to feel you up a bit while you're unconscious, because you're actually really attractive, even if you're going to way too much effort to show it off. Then, I'm going to take from you what I need. So essentially, Black Cat, whatever you want, or any feelings you have about what I'm going to do...they don't matter. Nothing you think matters. You're a tool."
"There's only one tool here, Spider-Girl, and I'm not it," Felicia hissed, still wriggling in her attacker's grip. "And in fact, what I want does matter. You know why?"
"I don't really care," 'Spider-Girl' replied, as she prepared to inject her victim.
"Because I have a magic ring, asshole."

As soon as 'Spider-Girl' had clamped her thighs around Felicia, she'd realised she wouldn't be able to cut herself free in time. But she'd remembered what had started this damned night in the first place, her robbery, and the Mandarin's ring. She didn't know how to use it, but she knew it was worth a shot. She managed to fish it out of her pocket, slip it onto one of her fingers, and in an act of calculated desperation, squeezed her fist. She'd been hoping for a dramatic, powerful beam of energy that would free her from the net and send 'Spider-Girl' running with her tail between her legs. All she got, however, was an anaemic, sputtering and thoroughly feeble ray of sickly, green light, making it perfectly clear why the Mandarin had allowed it to be lost. It was almost amusingly anticlimactic - but it got the job done. The netting, already weakened by Black Cat's claws, split apart, bursting open like rotten fruit.

It was caution, rather than carelessness, that meant that Felicia's assailant released her. This magic ring had taken her by surprise, and when Felicia used it, she leapt back in fear that her prey had dealt her some deadly blow. This fear was unfounded, but Black Cat did slip through her grasp. As the beautiful, white-haired thief artfully righted herself mid-fall, her assailant watched her with dark eyes. She observed the liquid grace of her movements; the length and shapeliness of her legs; the way her skin-thin suit clung to her round, tight rump; the way her eye-wateringly generous bust bounced in the confines of her catsuit whenever she moved. As she watched Felicia, as she took her in - really took her in - she made two silent vows. First, that she would take what she needed from Black Cat. Second, that she would take what she wanted from her too.

Black Cat didn't waste a second when she landed. Specialised pads in her shoes transferred the impact safely away from damaging her joints, and she got away with nothing more than a slight pain in her thigh. Still, she sprang forward, heading immediately towards the exit. She would rather have stood her ground, and she had to grit her teeth in irritation, but she'd not got by all these years by being incautious. If this woman who was after her truly did have the same powers as her eccentric beau, and was any good with them, then Black Cat would at best be fighting an uphill battle. With the winds in her favour, she had a good chance of beating Spider-Man in a one-on-one battle. But it did not feel as if the winds were in her favour that day, and she elected to run.

"No." It was hard to describe the woman's tone. It was loud, but too controlled to be called a shout. But there was venom in it too. Almost faster than Black Cat could keep up with, she leapt into Felicia's path, blocking her from the single exit. "No, Black Cat. You're not going anywhere. I have marked you, do you understand? You're part of my plan. My plans do not get disrupted."
It was astonishing. She seemed genuinely offended that Black Cat had dared to do anything other than roll over and surrender. There was a kind of arrogance to this woman, arrogance that did not scream and shout and throw tantrums, but a pervasive, thoroughgoing belief that other people ought to do and be only what she wished, and that whatever she wanted was of necessity more important than what anyone else wanted. Felicia found herself feeling hot with anger.

"Okay, y'know what?" Felicia said, almost laughing. "I was going to run. I was going to throw down a smoke bomb and sneak around you - but no. No, sweetie, you are in serious need of getting your ass kicked. And if it's gotta be me to do it...fine." She brandished her claws, crouched, and readied herself for battle. "Put up your dukes, Spider-Girl."
"Well," 'Spider-Girl' replied, "if you insist." She sprang forward, so quickly that Black Cat thought her enemy was about to take flight. In mid-air, she kicked off a concrete overhang that Felicia hadn't even seen, and shot at the thief like a bullet, arms tucked in against her trim body. In an instant she'd cleared a thirty foot gap, and was now in hand-to-hand range. It was only then that Felicia understood what a fool she had been.

She'd been expecting someone as fast as Peter. She'd been wrong: this woman was faster - much faster. She harried Felicia with a series of hit-and-run attacks, leaping off conveyor belts, chutes, electric sewing machines - anything she could use to give herself an advantage. Felicia had her claws, and it was only that fact which allowed her to avoid a swift defeat. She wasn't so slow herself, and she always gave 'Spider-Girl' a reason not to get too close. But the effort was adding up. Felicia had already pushed herself that night, against the paramilitaries, escaping from her bonds, and writhing in her net, and she was beginning to tire.

Her opponent must have sensed this, because she changed her strategy. She stopped leaping about, and decided to engage Black Cat on her own terms, or rather to allow Felicia to engage her. And indeed, Black Cat tried, though creeping exhaustion sapped much of the liquid swiftness from her shapely limbs. She swung high, and 'Spider-Girl' dodged by bending backwards, so Felicia kicked at her heel, sure that this would make her overbalance. But by the time Felicia's kick even came close to connecting, her enemy had turned her dodge into a backflip, completely evading Felicia's attack.

Black Cat rushed in again, and made several quick slashes, calculated to be as arrhythmic and unpredictable as possible, but her enemy dodged them with an almost contemptuous ease, her eyes locked with Felicia's the entire time. Frustrated, Felicia dropped back, and threw down a smoke bomb at her foe's feet. She made no attempt to stop Black Cat from doing this, standing stock still as a billowing cloud of black smoke engulfed her. Felicia hoped that this was arrogance on Spider-Girl's part, and she made every effort to take advantage of it. Grabbing a small piece of metal that was hanging loose from some of the disused machinery, she tossed it in one direction, while summoning up all the gymnasticism that her well-trained body had left, and leapt directly above her enemy. Within the cloud of smoke, she saw a faint outline of her enemy turning towards the sound of the metal.
"It worked!" Felicia didn't extend her claws this time, but aimed to use one debilitating, heavy punch to knock Spider-Girl out, or at least stun her. She thought, right up until the very last moment, that this would turn the battle in her favour, that her enemy's ego had cost her what should have been a relatively simple victory. She kept thinking that, right up until the web hit her.

"W-" Felicia didn't even quite have time for as much as a phoneme before the line of webbing hit her in the stomach and - snapping taut - slammed her down onto the concrete floor, flat on her front. "Auunghh!" Felicia cried out, as a jolt of pain shot through her. She tried to hop to her feet, but her muscles weren't obeying. She was nearly winded, and tired, and seriously disoriented. Before she knew it, Spider-Girl had leapt on top of her, pinning Felicia's curvy hips with her slender, but powerful thighs, grabbing Felicia's wrists, and pulling them behind her, crossing her wrists, and pressing her hands down into the small of her back, keeping her claws from being any possible threat.
"There were quite a few ways this could have ended, Black Cat," she said, as she began secreting webbing from her wrists onto Felicia's, teasing the almost liquid webbing into strands, coiling around and binding the white-haired beauty's forearms. "I could feel maybe...thirty possible outcomes. But you didn't win in any of them."
"I'm...so glad I could make you feel good about yourself, Spider-Girl," Felicia retorted. Her tiredness, and the alarm in her voice as she felt herself being tied up, however, took some of the wind out of the sails of her snappiness.

But evidently it still irritated her enemy, for once she had wound four circuits of fibrous web around Black Cat's wrists, she grabbed Felicia by the shoulders, and roughly turned her onto her back.
"If you're going to call me something," she hissed, "call me 'Silk'."
"Wow. Inventive." Felicia forced a smile, even as she struggled against her captor's grip. This reaction seemed to puzzle her captor slightly
"Well, if you don't like it...you can always call me 'Ma'am.'"
It wasn't the best line. Silk wasn't the most terrifying foe. But something about the way she said it, something about her eyes, and something about the way she looked at her captive's thinly clad, womanly body...it made Felicia nervous.

Silk moved down Felicia's body, grabbing at her smooth legs to stop herself from being kicked, forcing them neat and straight, side-by-side - her superhuman strength making this less than difficult. Beneath her mask she smiled as she felt the way Felicia's soft skin yielded to her touch beneath her suit.
"I want you to understand something," Silk said, as she began disgorging webbing onto Felicia's ankles, wrapping thin, tight sheets of web around her calves, restricting her lovely captive ever more tightly. "You're not all that important."
"Oh, really? 'Cause I thought I was the Queen of Sheba," Felicia growled, trying and failing to cut herself loose, trying and failing to resist Silk's strength.
"You were a target of opportunity. My powers let me sense the threads of fate - a hazy picture of the future, basically. So whenever your power triggers, your power over luck, I can feel it. It's what made it so easy for me to set traps for you...and it's why I had to let you exhaust it a little before we met."

"So that was it..." That was how the seemingly impossible connection between her first set of captors and this 'Silk' made sense. Even the way she'd defeated Felicia so easily: she had some kind of souped-up version of Peter's spider-sense.
"To be honest, I doubt that I need it," Silk said, making Felicia gasp as she pulled the threads around her calves tighter still, "but being able to influence fate, as well as just to see it...could be very, very useful."
"You're...going to take my powers?" Black Cat said, and this time could not keep a note of fear from her voice.
"I'm going to try. What you need to be worried about, Black Cat..." Silk said, dropping her voice to a whisper, and sliding her hand over Felicia's thighs, spreading her fingers out like another of her webs to grasp as much as she could, "is that I'm going to take you."

She did just that. Grabbing Felicia by her trim waist, she lifted the bound thief up to her feet, and before Black Cat could offer a word of objection, tossed her over her shoulder.
"H-hey!" Felicia gasped, taken aback by Silk's brazenness. She kicked out with her long, bound legs, but a slim, strong arm wrapped around her thighs, pressing them tight against Silk's body, leaving her calves uselessly kicking into the air, unable to harm her captor in any way. She writhed her upper body as well, trying to break the webs binding her wrists, or just to wriggle out of Silk's grip, but she was far, far weaker than her captor in terms of raw physical strength. Her shapely body writhed and bucked as she tried to escape, but it was no good. Either to impress this fact on Felicia, or simply out of lasciviousness, Silk grabbed Felicia's gorgeous rump, which had been wiggling so temptingly at the edge of her field of vision. "Tell me, Silk," Felicia growled, "what part of your plan is it exactly that involves you needing to grab my ass?!"
"None," Silk admitted. "But you can't stuff that body into a suit that tight and not expect a girl to take advantage if she captures you." Punctuating this, Silk lifted her hand, and smacked her writhing captive hard on her rear.
"Ah!" Black Cat gasped, her soft, pale cheeks crimsoning brightly. She couldn't help it: bound, tossed over her captor's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, manipulated, captured, and now spanked...this woman had taken her almost completely under her power, and a pang of humiliation throbbed through her. She felt...humbled, and though she recovered most of her defiance a moment later, something had changed. She was not struggling quite so fiercely anymore.

Whether Silk sensed that or not could not be said, but she reached one of the long conveyor belts where, once, hundreds of pairs of jeans had been sewn together every hour by dozens of seamstresses. Now it was a latex-clad, silk-bound thief who was tossed down onto the line.
"Unf!" Felcia groaned, tossed down so hard that she bounced slightly against the creaking, dried up rubber of the belt. She tried to roll off, but Silk was there again, kneeling astride her hips, holding her in place.
"You know what I never liked about cats?" Silk said. She was taking something out of a hidden pouch: some kind of glass vial. "You can't train a cat. I don't have any use for an animal that I can't tame." Another item: a thick, even slightly fluffy white cloth. "Which is a shame, because I like cats." She opened the vial, unleashing a sharp, sweet smell. She emptied the vial onto the cloth, and her bound victim recoiled from it, fearing that she knew what it was. Silk smiled, seeing the fear in Felicia's blue eyes. "Maybe that's why I decided on this little...detour," Silk said. "I always wanted a cat I could tame." She took the cloth, gave it a careful, tentative sniff - and then pressed it down hard over Felicia's mouth and nose.

"MMMPPPPHHHHHHHHHH!!" Felicia cried out, as a soft, wet cloth muzzled her, covering her nose and her sweet, red lips. A cloying, offensively sweet, offensively sharp smell forced its way into her nostrils, as she began to breathe in what could only be chloroform. "No! No! I have to stay awake! If I let her knock me out...if I...I..." The first feeling was actually a stirring of her consciousness, as fear and adrenaline made her more aware of everything, of every sensation. Suddenly she could feel in exquisite detail the clinging tightness of her revealing catsuit, the straining of her breasts against their confines, the overweening tightness of the silk binding her wrists and her calves, the embarrassment of having her body, her movements restrained, hemmed in. She could feel Silk's thighs holding her, pushing against her waist, her pelvis, a sensual flicker in Felicia's lower body as the result. She could feel too as Silk clutched the cloth over her mouth, squeezing her cheeks, her thumb even rubbing Felicia's lips through the drug-soaked cloth. And Felicia felt too as Silk's free hand traced the warm, pale expanse of skin from Felicia's neck down to her heaving, beautiful breasts. And then, as she felt Silk's fingertips stroking her, she began to feel the weakness.

"Mmmmhh...mmhhbbbhhhmmmpphhh..." It was like being...dipped in honey. Everything was slow. Everything was cloying. The furious wriggling of Felicia's shoulders, the stifled writhing of her curvy, feminine hips was weakened. Felicia felt the first flutter of her eyelids, felt a wave of terrible, threatening relaxation, of a somnolence that bound her like a chain.
"God, those are just lovely." Silk's voice was scarcely above a whisper as she stroked Felicia's breasts. "In fact, I say we have a better look." To Felicia's dismay, Silk grabbed the borders of her catsuit, the furred lining - and pulled.
"Mmhh...mmmhhh..." Felicia moaned, watching as Silk completely exposed her soft, smooth shoulders, her fine décolletage, pulling her suit down until her breasts were halfway exposed, the edges of the latex suit barely clinging on, seemingly an instant away from exposing Felicia's bosoms completely. "Nnnhhmmphh..." Felicia protested, shaking her head weakly as Silk exposed her, brushing her long white hair against the rubber belt beneath her. "Wh...why is she...doing this...? I'm already...beaten...aren't I?"

Evidently Silk wasn't satisfied, because she began vigorously squeezing Black Cat's breasts, massaging them. She used both hands, leaving the drugged cloth simply draped over Black Cat's mouth, for she was far too feeble now to remove it.
"I can't say that you're the best opponent I've ever faced," Silk said, "but you might just be the most...stimulating..."
"Mmh...mmmhh..." Felicia whimpered, almost over the edge of unconsciousness now. She felt hot. Her legs were still, but they tingled, particularly her inner thighs. Her cheeks were red, her sighs uncontrollably sensual, and her breasts...ached with pleasure from Silk's unasked for massage. Slender fingers worked her ample, yielding bosom like a baker with fine dough, her fingers spreading out in a wide pattern to get as much of a handful as possible. At the same time, Silk's thumbs teased and brushed against her scarcely concealed buds, hardening them by her light touches. Had Felicia been fully wakeful, she could have resisted these impulses, but weakened, drugged, and clouded by chloroform...she couldn't help herself. She lay there, whimpering and blushing, steady throbs of humiliating pleasure pulsing through her, making the beautiful, defeated damsel shiver and shudder with each one. "Can't...can't get away...it feels...oh...oohhh..."

It was only when Black Cat's struggles ceased completely, only when her writhing and wriggling faded totally away, and her voluptuous body went nearly still that Silk stopped what she was doing, took the cloth off her mouth. She sat down quite casually on the edge of the conveyor belt. Clutching Felicia by her quivering thighs and her naked, moist shoulders, she pulled the mewing damsel up into her grasp, cradling her, Felicia's head falling limply against Silk's shoulder, her calves dangling off the edge of Silk's lap.
"Wh...why are...why are you doing this...to me?" Felicia mumbled. She could barely move at all. Her shoulders wiggled a little, her thighs shifted against each other. She could only just about raise her large, normally lively blue eyes to look at her captor, her somnolent countenance giving her an irresistibly passive mien.
"Because I can. Because I want to. Because you're beautiful, and defeated, and you can't do anything to stop me...Felicia."
"Wh - no...!" Before Felicia could even really be shocked by the fact that Silk knew her real name, she felt her captor's skilful fingers on her beautiful face - and then the removal of her mask. "D-don't...take that..." Black Cat moaned, suddenly feeling as though she'd been stripped naked.
"Oh please. It barely covers anything anyway," Silk laughed. "But it'd scratch."
"S...scratch?"

Humiliated and unmasked, Felicia did not even realise that Silk had taken her own mask off, revealing a sharply attractive Korean face, before, pulling Felicia closer, Silk forced their lips together.
"Mmmhh! MMMMHH!!" Felicia found just enough strength to protest, wriggling and writhing as her plump, soft lips were forcefully kissed, tasting the subtle sweetness of Silk's mouth as the kiss grew deeper. Silk's tongue slipped into her mouth, and Felicia could not help but let her, as the kiss went on, and on, and on, a warm, insidious pleasure passing from Felicia's tingling mouth throughout her entire body. She felt so weak...so warm and helpless. "P-Peter..." she thought, as her mind became less and less focused, as the shock of physical pleasure brought with it a second wave of sleepiness. "H...help me..."
"Mhh..." Silk sighed, stroking Felicia's long legs as she kissed her mewing captive. "Now, I -"

But she was too late. Felicia had passed out. Silk was actually a little annoyed that Felicia had faded so fast. But though it was an indulgence she felt absolutely entitled to, it was nevertheless an indulgence. So she stood, lifting Felicia up into her arms. Her head fell back, her long, white hair flowing towards the ground in an alabaster waterfall. Her legs, long and smooth and perfectly curved, dangled in the air, the fallen maiden absolutely limp. And so, feeling a delight unbridled by any kind of moral sense, Silk began carrying her captive away.

For Felicia, the long night had only just begun...

[DrDominator9]

Wonderfully exquisite detail of a beautiful heroine being captured and bound, not once but twice. Luxurious as a long slow erotic kiss. Great beginning. Looking forward to what comes next.